Midsummer, Was It, When They Died, di Emily Dickinson

Midsummer, Was It, When They Died

962

Midsummer, was it, when They died—

A full, and perfect time—

The Summer closed upon itself

In Consummated Bloom—

The Corn, her furthest kernel filled

Before the coming Flail—

When These—leaned unto Perfectness—

Through Haze of Burial—

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49 I never lost as much but twice, And that was in the sod. Twice have I stood a beggar Before the door of God!

334 All the letters I can write Are not fair as this— Syllables of Velvet— Sentences of Plush,

246 Forever at His side to walk— The smaller of the two! Brain of His Brain— Blood of His Blood—

503 Better—than Music! For I—who hea… I was used—to the Birds—before— This—was different—’Twas Translat… Of all tunes I knew—and more—

182 If I shouldn’t be alive When the Robins come, Give the one in Red Cravat, A Memorial crumb.

XXXIX I MEANT to have but modest need… Such as content, and heaven; Within my income these could lie, And life and I keep even.

591 To interrupt His Yellow Plan The Sun does not allow Caprices of the Atmosphere— And even when the Snow

A little bread—a crust—a crumb— A little trust—a demijohn— Can keep the soul alive— Not portly, mind! but breathing—wa… Conscious—as old Napoleon,

48 Once more, my now bewildered Dove Bestirs her puzzled wings Once more her mistress, on the dee… Her troubled question flings—

153 Dust is the only Secret— Death, the only One You cannot find out all about In his “native town.”

941 The Lady feeds Her little Bird At rarer intervals— The little Bird would not dissent But meekly recognize

493 The World—stands—solemner—to me— Since I was wed—to Him— A modesty befits the soul That bears another’s—name—

Nature, the gentlest mother, Impatient of no child, The feeblest or the waywardest, Her admonition mild In forest and the hill

547 I’ve seen a Dying Eye Run round and round a Room— In search of Something—as it seem… Then Cloudier become—

631 Ourselves were wed one summer—dear… Your Vision—was in June— And when Your little Lifetime fai… I wearied—too—of mine—